Drag Him Back
by ChibiKitsuneOfEgypt
Summary: The boy was an angel and he was not. He was a sinner and capable of unbelievable things, but he loved the boy with all his heart. And couldn't these felings. An inside look into the mind of Asato Tsuzuki and his feelings for one Kurosaki Hisoka.


ChibiKit- Okay so I have only been reading and watching Yami No Matsuei for a little while so I'm still kinda getting the hang of the show and the manga. Moreover, this is my first attempt at a fanfiction in this fandom so please be nice. I don't know how well I did with the characters. I hope you enjoy and please leave me a review if you like it or have some suggestions for me. I really do I want to know how this came out and if I should even bother writing another story in this fandom.

Warning- Depressing thoughts, masturbation, and mentions of Muraki (yes he deserves his own warning, lol)

Disclaimer- I do not own Yami No Matsuei in any way, shape, or form. Even though I really wish I did ;)

"Talking"

"_Flashback"_

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He was repulsive. A monster, a beast, a being completely of sin and he knew it. Yet he couldn't stop himself every time he did it. Even with the little guilty voice in the back of his head reminding him of his sins and transgressions, he couldn't stop. Couldn't force his mind to banish such corrupt feelings that seemed to control him in his times of weakness.

It was sad that someone like him, who was believed to be one of the strongest of the shinigami, had such little control. He who could call upon not one but twelve shikigami to aid him when needed, he who had endured 70 years worth of service to the Judgment Bureau, who had killed many people, unwillingly mind you, and had yet to lose his sanity; that's not including the Kyoto incident.

Everyone saw him as such a happy person. Always smiling and goofing around. The one who could act like such a child even though he was 90+ years and counting. Very few knew of his true nature. Even fewer knew of his true heart. And none knew of his obsession, his disease, his reoccurring sin. And he was thankful because he knew if anyone found out they would be disgusted and ashamed of him. Especially one special person.

Hell, he was mortified with himself, the feelings of shame and self-loathing rolling through him like the waves of the ocean. And yet he just couldn't find the strength in himself to stop; to quit this nasty habit and try to fight his way back to righteousness was harder then one would think. However, he knew, almighty God above he knew, that there was no forgiveness for him. No mercy or pity for a monster, a _**demon**_, like him.

Tsuzuki moaned softly as his large hand moved over his straining erection, watching the way it moved up the long shaft, his thumb brushing over the mushroom shaped head to collect the small amount of precum that had gathered there before moving back down, only to repeat the process again.

He watched as the hard flesh trembled in his hand, slightly pink with all the blood that had accumulated there, his rough, calloused fingers working the taunt flesh. His eyes were transfixed on the way he stroked himself, an out of body feeling rolling through him. It was like watching another stroke, pull, and grip his member, but knowing deep down that there was no one to condemn for this, no one to blame but himself.

He knew it was wrong, immoral, hell down right disgusting! Yet he just couldn't seem to stop even with all the self-hatred he would inflect on himself afterwards. He knew he was a sick man and needed some serious help. But he just _**couldn't stop**_.

No amount of medication, psychological aid, or punishment could help him now. He had long ago crossed that line of no return, and not even the redeeming grace of God could salvage his impure, tainted soul. And what made it all the worse was that even as he cried afterwards, beat himself up to the point of depression, inflected irreversible damage to his barely standing psyche, he still returned to his sins once more.

His was propped against the wall of his apartment's bathroom, his head resting limply on the cool tiled wall as his hand stroked and pumped his pulsating arousal, sending shock-waves of pleasure up his spine, small gasp and moans falling from his lips.

He was standing on shaky legs and knew that at any moment they might give out on him. And yet he couldn't find the strength nor the means to care at the moment as he pleasured himself in his quiet bathroom in his lonely apartment.

It was sad, depressing and downright unethical to be doing such a thing and even the small little voice in his head that said, "all men did it" couldn't justify what he was doing right now. Even it knew he was damn wrong.

Because as his hand moved over his erection, gripping and stroking, pulling pleasured sounds from him, he was imagining pale thighs wrapped around his waist, little hands clutching him, holding him so tightly as silken heat gripped and tugged at his cock, embracing him in all the right ways.

Even as he stared up at the bland ceiling of his bathroom, his head having long ago lulled backwards, his amethyst eyes lidded, he was picturing hazed, lust consumed emerald jewels gazing back at him with such passion and want that it made his body ache and his stomach twist pleasantly.

"Hi… Hisoka…." he heard himself moan and he couldn't stop his hips from jerking up, his imagination running rampant inside his sick head, fueling his lust and desire even while he sinned with each stroke of his dick.

He was far worse then Muraki, regardless of what anyone said. He was more vile, more despicable, more… disgusting then that murderer. Muraki had only raped the young child one night, putting a deadly curse on him and that had been the end of it. However, he, this wicked pedophile had down far worse.

Each night he would lay to sleep, dreading when his eyes would close because he knew what would come the minute his mind went to what was supposed to be a peaceful sleep, a soundless dreamland full of happiness and life. So he could forget about the dreadful job he did and all those he had killed whether intentionally or not.

"Nghnnn… ha… Ah…. Hisoka…. Fuck…" he panted, his head tossing back, sweaty chocolate colored bangs sticking to his forehead while his head slammed into the tiled wall with a soft 'thud'. Yet he didn't seem to notice while his hand picked up speed, his hips bucking in rhythm to his working fist.

Even his dreams weren't safe from his sinful nature.

"Hisoka…."

He would dream of pale creamy skin, a soft angelic voice that called out to him as he violated and tainted that innocent body. He would dream of scorching emerald eyes that burned him with lust and desire while little hands held onto him for dear life.

His mind would wander to a sinful night full of passion and sex, his blood tainted hands running over soft, baby-like skin, whispering in a husky voice into a small delicate ear. His mouth would kiss and lick every inch of the childlike body that lay before him, underneath him, filling him with everything that was his partner. Yet he would still crave more.

He would then take the young teenager over and over again atop his bed, listening to the puberty stunted voice call out to him, moaning for him, screaming for him as he fucked the small angel, tainting his already wounded soul with his touch, his existence.

Little legs would hold him tight, dull nails would claw at his back in a fit of passion and sweat would mix between the two bodies, making them slick and slippery, easier to slide together.

And he would awake hot and uncomfortable with the proof of his enjoyment pulsating in his pajama pants or boxers, and in more occurring cases, his sweaty palm. And even though he knew he was only adding to his long list of sinful deeds he could never stop himself from indulging in his fantasies, letting his body take over and submit to his desires.

He didn't know when it had started or why. Out of all the people to fall for, why did it have to be a 16-year-old teenager who was raped by a psycho murderer and shunned by his family. Out of all the people to fall for why did it have to be an emotionally crippled smart-mouthed, attitude carrying teenager.

Why did it have to be Hisoka.

Maybe it was those bright emerald eyes that read his every thought, even without the boy's empathy. Maybe it was that petty pale moonlight skin that looked a soft as silk. Maybe it was the fact that for one so young, the boy was so wise and mature, stronger willed then anyone he had ever met.

Maybe it was everything that made Hisoka, Hisoka.

If the young teen ever knew, ever found out what his "loving" partner did each and every night to the thought of him... Tsuzuki didn't even want to think about it. The way emerald eyes would widen in shock before hardening in disgust and revulsion. He wouldn't bare it.

He was surprised Hisoka hadn't picked up on his emotions yet. Then again he had gotten rather good at building up his barriers to keep his impure thoughts away from the young male. He didn't need Hisoka finding out about his nightly ritual, or the fact that he couldn't stop staring when the younger male nibbled on his pen during office hours. If Hisoka knew that when he blushed Tsuzuki was replacing the embarrassed flush with one of passion, he would never look at the elder male the same again.

Hisoka was too innocent, no matter what the sixteen-year-old thought about himself. To Tsuzuki, despite what Muraki had done to his young body all those years ago, Hisoka was pure. And even though the kid was ridged around the emotional edges and could become very aggressive when he got agitated with his partner he was still such a caring, loving boy.

He had proven that when he had begged Tsuzuki to live that time in the scorching inferno of Touda back in Kyoto, the flames licking at the building all around them, and yet Hisoka wouldn't leave him, declaring that he would die along side Tsuzuki.

"_I want you to live even if it's just for me!" _

Tsuzuki had never felt so loved then at that moment as Hisoka hugged him close, his small arms wrapped around him, his face buried in his neck, the smell of the boy intoxicating him even as the flames burned on.

"_I don't want to be alone anymore!"_

He didn't deserve the boy.

"_This is the only place for me… just here in you're heart."_

His hips were starting to lose their rhythm and he could feel the muscles in his stomach growing taunt with his impending release. His legs began to shake even worse and his hand pumped faster, harder, dragging a hot, sweaty, and pre cum coated palm over pulsating flesh.

"_You're a demon," _Muraki had said, and it was nights like these that proved that statement, reminded him time and time again that yes, he was a monster, a demon, a being of hell and deserved no less then that.

"Ah…"

He didn't deserve to know such an angel, for he would only taint such innocence; use the small boy for his sick immoral fantasies. He would only ruin that pure boy with his darkness.

"Nghnnn… ha…. Hi… so…ka…"

It didn't matter that he loved the boy with all his heart. He didn't deserve love and therefore that too was wrong.

"Hisoka!"

With one final buck of his frantic hips Tsuzuki came, spilling his seed over his still pumping palm, coating it and his flexing stomach with the hot evidence of his transgression.

After a few final pumps the shinigami's legs finally gave out, causing him to slide ungracefully to the cool floor of his bathroom, his heated body reacting to the cold tile.

Soft pants and gasp fell from his lips, his amethyst eyes hidden from view by his closed lids, his hands limp at his side, one clean, the other soiled with his cum. His whole body was trembling with aftershocks and his muscles refused to function just yet, needing some time to learn how to work properly again.

After a good amount of time had passed Tsuzuki slowly got to his feet on shaky legs and staggered back to his bedroom, not even bothering to clean up the mess he had made in the bathroom. In the morning it would remind him of what he was and why he could never be with the one he wanted, the one he desired, the one he loved.

Picking up his discarded shirt that he had torn from his body the moment he had woken up in a state he was becoming all to accustomed to, Tsuzuki wiped his chest down sloppily before collapsing in his bed, burying his face into his pillow and crying himself into a dreamless sleep.

One where not even the angelic Hisoka could tempt him.

He was a disgusting creature he knew that. Yet he also knew that that wouldn't stop him from doing it again the next night. Because even while he fought to stay within the light he would still wake to his sex pulsating between his thighs, causing his self-hatred to intensify. Each night he awoke drenched in sweat, his list of sins would only grow longer, his hatred stronger. But… so was his love for Hisoka, the boy that had swept his heart into his strong little hands.

And that would always drag him back.

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ChibiKit- Well that's the end. I hope you all liked it. I was going to add some more to this, like make it into a story and show the two getting together but I'm not sure. If you guys would like that just tell me and I'll write some more. Review please!! Ja!


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